


In the Blood

by rashaka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Death, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Horror, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/pseuds/rashaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shut up and move, Jasper,” snapped Octavia. “We’re on a quest.” (Or, the hunt for Clarke Griffin goes horribly, horribly right.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my first attempt at a slightly longer story than I normally do. I don't know how long it will take me, but I do have a plan. I hope you enjoy this. It starts off with the folks at Camp Jaha, but eventually Clarke will feature as well. I may raise the rating as I advance, but note that this will include graphic violence and death.

* * *

 

 

“What you’re about to hear does not leave this room.”

Bellamy’s eyes bounced from the Chancellor, to Marcus Kane, to Dr. Jackson, and back to the Chancellor again.  Abby’s lips cut a thin slice through her face, and her eyes were an endless dark brown that sucked Bellamy in and left him minuscule. There were parts of this woman that he liked, but her obsessive secret-keeping was not high on the list.

“Please, son,” said Kane. “We need to trust you on this.” It was his diplomatic voice, and this was the third time in as many months he’d used that pet name.  The word rolled around in Bellamy’s skull every time it was invoked, leaving in its wake a contrasting litany of gratitude and resentment. As much as he ought to tell Kane to shove off (I’m the son of the woman you floated, I’m _her_ fucking _son_ ), he also couldn’t quite beat down that needle of pride he got from Kane’s attention.  The man wasn’t just his boss now that they were all on the ground—he was like a new person: inquisitive, diplomatic, willing to listen.  It reminded Bellamy of Clarke sometimes, and that made it all the worse when they got along.

He really should tell him to fuck off with the ‘son’ thing, though. Maybe after whatever this was.

“You can trust me,” Bellamy replied, looking right at Abby. She nodded, because they both knew it was true. He might not trust her yet—he may not ever trust Abby Griffin—but she could trust him. The Chancellor brought her canteen up to her lips and swallowed a long draught of water, then screwed the cap on with thin, dry fingers.  Squaring her shoulders, she pulled the pin from her grenade.

 “I have cancer.”

Bellamy’s mouth dropped. He instinctively did a once-over: she seemed fine. A little tired, but essentially the same as she’d been for the last three months. “You don’t look it,” he said, which was stupid, so _fucking_ stupid, but then why was she even telling him this?

The answer hit like an aftershock, and he completely blocked out Jackson’s subsequent techo babble about symptoms and leukemia stats because— “You want me to find Clarke.”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but it must’ve been the correct response.  Kane was nodding and Abby actually reached out to put her hand on his shoulder.

“Please, Bellamy,” she asked. It wasn’t quite begging, but it twisted in the air like desperation nonetheless. “Just one more time, bring my daughter home.”

 

* * *

 

“I want in,” announced Jasper, his fists landing on the wooden slats of the mess table, Bellamy set down his spoon to examine him.

The operation technically remained classified, but you can’t coordinate a long-term excursion without raising a few eyebrows. Unofficial word around the tents had it that the leadership of Camp Jaha felt Clarke had been granted more than enough time to cool off.  They wanted their golden child back, and Bellamy would command a four man team to retrieve her.  His Trigedasleng was half-way decent by now, he was a proven group leader, and personally he had as good a chance as anyone of convincing her.  Jasper might have the opposite effect.

Bellamy crossed his arms and rocked back on his bench. “Why?”

“I can’t be cooped up here another day.”

“You’re already on the hunting rotation. Lindsey’s been giving you extra trips.”

The young man leaning over the table was a far cry from the earnest, smiling kid arrested for nuisances and too nervous to hold a gun straight. Jasper’s enormous, round eyes were cold instead of kind, and his jaw was tight.

“Please,” he said, taking a moment to sit down fully and changing his tone. He put his hands together and looked at Bellamy from under bangs that should’ve been cut weeks ago. It was all supplication now, an appeal to a friend: “You know my aim is good. I can run and I can shoot.”

“Those aren’t reasons,” replied Bellamy.

“I just wanna go, alright?”

“Not until you talk.”

Jasper forced out a sigh, and ran his hand through his hair.  “I wanna see Clarke again. I wanna talk to her about Maya, and the Mountain, and…everything.”

“You want to _talk_ to Clarke?” 

He must’ve seen something in Bellamy’s expression then, because he reared back and his cheeks went slack.   “Jesus Christ, Bellamy, I’m not gonna kill her or anything.”

When his friend gave no sign of response, Jasper leaned forward and growled, “C’mon man, I’m not Murphy. I'm not... _Finn_ either. If we go out there I’m not gonna be a problem you have to control. I just want—I wanna see her too. I’m aloud to want that, same as anyone else.”

Bellamy picked up his spoon and pushed a piece of cabbage around his bowl of broth, inhaling and then exhaling in one drawn out sigh.  “Fine, you’re in.  We go the day after tomorrow, so be at the main gate by six.  If you’re late, I’m leaving you.”

“Thanks dude,” said Jasper. He smacked the surface of the table with the flat of his hand, and swung his legs around the bench to stand. “See you then.”

 

* * *

 

When they got back from their tandem hunting shift, Bellamy brought Octavia and Lincoln back to his tent and laid the situation out for them. He talked around the looming factor of Abby’s condition, electing to save that news for the road. It came down to two basic facts: the Chancellor wanted to bring Clarke home, and Bellamy already had one foot halfway out the door.

“Obviously, we’re coming,” she said when he finished. Lincoln nodded, and Bellamy cracked a brief smile at the pair.

“Good. O, aside from the fact that I feel better when we each know where we’re at, you’re as tough as any formal guard and we might need that. We don’t know what we’re gonna run into, or how far away Clarke is.  And Lincoln, I’ll feel safer with you as a buffer for any Trikru we come across.”

Octavia grinned with a full set of teeth. “As if you could separate us.”

“I know better, little sis, trust me.”

“So who else is going?”

“Havis Flannery from the guard, and Jasper.”   He could’ve sold tickets to the look Octavia and Lincoln exchanged on hearing the second name.

“I thought he hated Clarke now,” said Octavia.

“And you,” added Lincoln. Then, with an afterthought shrug, “And Monty.”

Bellamy wasn’t too old yet not to roll his eyes, especially in front of his sister. “He wants closure, some bullshit like that. Or he really is bored with being cooped up here thinking of everyone he lost. Either way, I think he’s serious about it, and I’d rather have someone we know.”

“Hey, wait,” said Octavia, slicing her hand through the air. “Back up. Is Flannery that guy from Petra’s squad? About five-ten, big shoulders, can’t shave properly?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Bell!” Her voice came out more of a whine that a protest, and Lincoln was looking at the wall of the tent, apparently familiar with where the conversation was headed.

“What?”

“He’s a jackass. In our first group training with Indra he told me he’d protect me from the evil Grounders with his baton.”

“And?”

“I…told him to shove it up his ass.”

Bellamy shrugged, clapping her on the shoulder.  “Sounds you’ll get along fine.  He’s good at tracking and he’s got endurance. If he gives you any shit, put him in his place. But don’t start something while we’re out there just because he offended you one time.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

“Hey.” Bellamy caught her elbow so she’d look at him, and he put on the face he used when she was a child and making a sound could mean their deaths. “I’m serious, O. When we get past those gates, you have to listen to me. Both of you. You take orders from me, and you don’t second guess them.  If you can’t handle that, then don’t come.”

Octavia let her gaze slide over to Lincoln. He raised one brow, and lifted the corner of his mouth the barest fraction. 

“Alright Big Brother," she said, "You’re the boss. I promise to play nice with the other kids.”

Bellamy leaned forward, brown eyes locked on green. “And you _will_ follow my commands if there’s a fight?”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.”  Octavia winked at him then, and a smile bloomed across her face like this was a card game and she had a full house. His sister had always been wretched at poker. “Anyway, s‘gonna be fun.  Go on a trip, see new places, get Jasper to chill the fuck out again.”

Bellamy swatted at her. “Alright, get outta my tent.  And get some sleep, there’s a long walk tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

They convened at the gate with five enormous gear bags and a handful of sour expressions.  About the only one who seemed cheerful was Lincoln, and Bellamy could only tell that much because the man’s expression was neutral instead of a perpetual frown. Octavia obsessively checked her pack and scrubbed at her eyes—she’d never liked getting up early, and had little reason to bother trying for her first sixteen years. Jasper shifted his weight from foot to foot like a teetering scale, unable to decide if he wanted to look back at the remains of the Ark or forward into the woods. Flannery rocked on his heels and gave off the impression that he was bored waiting for them, though he’d been the last to arrive.

Distributed between them, the search party had four handguns, two rifles, several knives, two short range walkie-talkies, a bow each for Lincoln and Jasper, plus whatever gear Lincoln had stashed on his person.  Octavia debated bringing her sword, but finally decided that with the gun, the ammunition, the pack, and her long knife, she simply couldn’t maintain the weight for a prolonged hike.  They'd rationed their food and had a plan for their hunting situation when it became necessary to subsidize their diet.  They really could have used a donkey or a horse, but no one had been yet successful in buying livestock from their Trigedakru neighbors.

First out of the gate, Bellamy had his pack, one of the rifles, a small hatchet, and a map.  Although he’d slept terribly the night before, tangled up in his sweltering sheets and wondering if his lost friend was alive or dead, now that they were all together he was itching to be out.  If Clarke was alive—and she had to be, because Bellamy refused to believe the universe was that fucking cruel—then he’d find her.  He would tell her about the progress they’d made through the spring months, that all their friends were okay, and finally that her mother wanted to see her. This time when he asked her to come home, she would put her hand in his and come home.

“Ready to go?”

Bellamy assessed his team with a cool eye.  They looked dangerous and more than a little mean, which was the best impression to give off.  Four days of planning gave them a likely direction to start from, based on months of rumors gathered from their sporadic interactions with Indra’s clan.  With that in mind, he set his shoulders and raised his voice.

“We’re heading South by South East, and you’ve all seen the map. I have one copy, Lincoln has the other.  No hunting for the first two days; just travel.  We wanna get distance between us and the camp, because there’s no chance Clarke stuck anywhere nearby.  We don’t think she’d go too far off though, so we’re working on the assumption that she’s somewhere within thirty to eighty miles from here. One of Indra’s scouts claimed to have seen her three weeks ago, so that’s where we start. Any questions?”

One person raised their hand; it was Jasper, and he'd finally stopped twitching.

“What is it?”

“That was the most boring speech you’ve ever given. You’ve really gone downhill.”

“How’s this? Put your pack on and start walking, or I shoot you.” 

Jasper lifted his bag and strung it over his shoulders, shrugging into the straps and belting it at his waist. “Used to be better.”  

“Shut up and move, Jasper,” snapped Octavia. “We’re on a quest.”


End file.
